


Flock Together

by norcumi



Series: Nurturing Nature [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Transformation, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, Partial Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 07:52:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18339347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: Hawk did not sign up for this. Hawkeye didn't survive a blasted zillo beast for this.





	Flock Together

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe, Hawkeye survived. Because. >_>

Hawk tried not to roll his eyes as he approached the Medical area of _The Resolute_. He could hear the bitching halfway down the corridor, and while he could understand and sympathize, it would still take a more patient brother than him to not have had it up to his eyebrows by now. 

He made himself smile as he entered Medical’s quieter section, the smaller area used for rehab and recovery. “Ready to evac, Hawkeye?” he called, as if he hadn’t heard how very much the man wanted _out_ already. 

He got a look for that, and had to wonder for the hundredth time if Hawkeye had been named for that deathglare, or his ability to find things – trouble included. 

“What took you so long?” his brother snapped, grimacing at the med droid that tried to help him off the exam table. He waved both it and Hawk off, visibly biting back a snarl as he staggered until the servos in his left leg caught up with the movement. 

Hawkeye had come out of the losing end of a fight with an oversized lizard on Malastare. He’d lost the leg, but was still alive to bitch about it, and meanwhile General Windu had been insistent that he get a cybernetic replacement. Hawk wasn’t sure if the Jedi were catching wind about troops that were injured enough for decommissioning, or if it was just guilt about being the one to pick Hawkeye for the assignment in the first place. Either way, Hawkeye had been reassigned, and Hawk had been the random draw to help him through rehab. It was kind of an annoying way to spend his allocation of downtime, but he’d been asked, he’d said yes, and he was willing to help. 

It wasn’t hard or bad, just Hawkeye could be all prickly edges sometimes. 

“Turbulence,” he joked, making himself available to grab but not making that first move himself. 

“Vacuum jockeys,” Hawkeye sighed, shaking his head. He started walking, stride smoothing out pretty quick. “Dunno where you guys think you pick up a sense of humor.” 

“Make a few gunship drops, and you’ll figure it out.” Hawk grinned as he got another glare for that, and he ambled after his brother. 

“Yeah, speaking of, I really don’t need an escort everywhere.” 

Hawk shrugged. “I’d agree, but it’s not like either of us makes assignments. C’mon. Mess. Food. You can complain about the med droid torture over some rations, and if you’re lucky I’ll fall asleep over soup and you can drag me back to the cabin.” 

Hawkeye snickered. “I’d just leave you there.” 

* * *

Thankfully there were no incidents during the meal, and things were almost relaxed until Hawkeye stomped his way out of the fresher to loom over Hawk’s bunk. He took his time rolling over enough to look up at his grumpy brother, an intimidating figure in full blacks. “Everything alright?” 

Hawkeye did a swift headtilt. “So, that prank war you’ve got going on with –” 

“It’s not a prank war,” he patiently explained, _yet again_. “It’s an ongoing readiness preparedness exercise.” That was, at least, what the two squads kept calling it to avoid Captain Rex’s guaranteed wrath if he caught wind of it – or worse, the Generals found out. 

Hawkeye just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, the prank war. I thought the ‘freshers were off limits.” 

“Theeeey are.” 

“Then why did I just spot some creepy holo being projected on or through the mirrors?” 

Hawk squinted at him for a moment, wondering if someone had pulled off a miracle and gotten Hawkeye to lighten up enough to get involved. No, heat death of the universe hadn’t happened yet, so that meant something was up. He went and checked the ‘fresher, disquieted that he found nothing but figuring this might be Hawkeye’s inept way of poking him. “Hey, next time you’re in Medical ask someone to look at your eyes. You’re seeing things, brother.” 

He got a glare over crossed arms and a defensive pose. “I don’t _see things_ ,” he muttered stiffly. “Not incorrectly, anyways.” 

Hawk was _almost_ tired enough for an uncharitable comment to _see_ the damn giant lizard before it stepped on his leg next time, but he wasn’t quite run down enough for it. He settled for a grunt that could be taken however, then flopped back down on his bunk. 

* * *

Hawkeye tried to ignore the restless tossing and turning Hawk did that night, doing his own share of sleeping like a log in freefall. It wasn’t like he was normally a sedate sleeper anyways, which was during his recuperation, he and his babysitter got one of the tiny cabins near Medical. Those were usually for Jedi, or the bad cases who weren’t slated for decommission but would do better away from the general sick bay – so nobody was a huge fan of being stuck in there. 

Hawkeye woke up stiff and sore – a little from the PT, a little from the extra weight of his new leg, which the medics had sworn he’d get used to at some mythical point. He’d faceplanted at some point in the night, though for once he’d managed to not knock the blanket onto the floor. He couldn’t recall the last time that had happened. 

He shoved himself up to his elbows, prying his eyes open. “Rise and sh– _What_.” 

Hawkeye blinked a few times, resenting the crystal clear view he had of Hawk’s bunk. It looked like the prank war had taken some weird new turn: there was an actual bundle of feathers snuggled up in the bundled center of the stock issue blanket. It had its head tucked under a wing, so while he had a great view of brown and white feathers, he could only guess it was an actual hawk, but given the average sense of humor in the prank war? Someone had gotten a fucking damned hawk and carted it into the room. Idiots. 

A number of thoughts finally percolated through morning mental fog. First, he could see his blanket on the floor where he usually managed to kick it, but he could still feel something draped across his back. Second, this was a dumb prank: Hawk needed someone prodding him or a full alert to get him coherent without at least half an hour of shambling reactions. So why had they carted Hawk out, and left a bird? Hawkeye had extracted solemn promises that the pranksters would leave him the fuck out of their idiocy, and aside from some genuine accidents with collateral damage, they’d kept to it. So why prank him with a bird in the cabin? 

Third, there was something _really_ off with his vision. Things seemed too sharp, like adrenaline had spiked in hard, but while he was confused that was nothing exciting. There was also something funny he’d put down to morning confusion, something about his field of vision that _felt_ normal, but as soon as he paid attention to it his field of vision seemed incredibly off. 

“What the fuck?” 

The bird let out what he wanted to call a long-suffering sigh, but that was stupid. A bird wouldn’t do that. “Shut. Uuuuuup,” it groaned – the exact way Hawk would, and had, and usually did when Hawkeye tried to wake him. 

Hawkeye froze, shoulders hunching towards his ears as goosebumps broke out over his skin. That was – that was weird. He’d read up on avians, and he was pretty sure hawks didn’t tend to do the mimicry thing. But that sure had sounded like Hawk. 

Silence lingered, thick and crawling over his skin, then the bird let out another sigh. “Ok, ok, I fuckin’ give. What’s...going...on?” It pulled its head out from under a wing, glancing over at him then freezing. It was surreal, how those amber eyes dilated and the feathers slicked down in what looked like shock. A sharp hooked beak flicked in small arcs as the bird gave him a once over, and as it stared at his leg the bird began to hunch. It mantled, wings spreading some and feathers fluffing up in what he thought was a response to a threat. “Hawkeye?” it gasped, Hawk’s voice gone thready and piercing like a – well, like a hawk’s cry. 

That was _not_ a reassuring reaction. _He_ wasn’t the birdy one here. That goosebumpy sensation built and Hawkeye looked down, needing to reassure himself that he hadn’t somehow gone all avian without noticing. 

There was something in his field of vision that kept moving with him, which was not reassuring. “Hawk, what’s going on?” 

Panic was doing funny things to his voice, making it croak way more than it should. The shivery feeling spread wider, then with a shake the blanket on his back... _spread_. 

That wasn’t a blanket. 

Those were _wings_. 

Oh _fuck_. 

* * *

Hawk’s first coherent thought was an indignant _I just asked YOU that_. The second was that never mind Hawkeye taking part, _this couldn’t be a prank_. Not with the way the fine feathers around panic-wide orange eyes fluffed up, the nervous clattering of the beak, the sudden flailing of fucking huge _wings_ as the person in the other bed yelped, flailed, and managed to fall off his bunk. 

He looked like a brother, for the most part. Right build, body suit, and most of all the cyber leg on the left from the mid-thigh on down – it had to be Hawkeye. 

The gray wings on his back were new. Everything the neck up had gone birdy: dramatic mask markings in dark feathers around angry red eyes, speckled white feathers around a sharp curved beak. It was all very impressive and angry and very like Hawkeye, and why the _hells_ was Hawk freaking out enough to hyperfocus on all those details? He blinked a few times and shook his head, because everything had that sharp detail and distance that came with shock. But he’d experienced battle shock often enough to know what that felt like, and while he was weirded out, it wasn’t– 

The math finally added up. He froze, then slowly looked down, spreading his arms out. 

Not arms. _Wings_. 

His stillness finally seemed to hit Hawkeye, who stopped thrashing around on the floor and trying to rearrange the room by wing alone. They stared at each other, then Hawk nodded. “You alright?” 

The eyeroll was all Hawkeye, at least. “Aside from being _half bird_ , yeah.” 

The prickly feeling that was possibly feathers fluffing up in agitation was weird. “Well, since I seem to be stuck as _all_ bird, you can take your half change and shove it up your feathery ass.” 

Hawkeye’s expression managed to be both horrified and offended. “It’s _not_ ,” he half asked. 

He sighed and looked to the ceiling for some kind of assistance from the Force. “It really is.” 

“ _Fuck_.” 

There was never going to be a better opportunity. “You do realize one of us has to go find a Jedi, right?” Hawkeye groaned, and Hawk snickered. “Hey, at least no one would recognize you.” 

“You look fast, and nobody would recognize you!” 

“Maybe, but do I _look_ like I know how to fly without a ship?” 

Hawkeye paused, then glanced over at him. “You don’t suppose I could fly with these, do you?” 

“I think it’s a recipe for disaster, but they’re big enough.” Heck, he could see the damage those things had done to the room – they looked sturdy enough, too. 

After a suspiciously long pause, Hawkeye asked, “How long do you think it’ll take the Jedi to fix this?” 

He couldn’t stop a laugh, for all that it was shrill and uncertain. “Long enough for Captain Rex to chew you out.” 

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, [Red-Tailed Hawk](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red-tailed_hawk) and [Northern Goshawk](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northern_goshawk).


End file.
